Rape Toys

Chapter 14 – Beaten Bitches

The aluminum trailer rocked rhythmically while Clarisse shrieked along in perfect time. The trailer was parked deep in the bush atop a ridge of natural beauty, overlooking a deep, flowing river. Water, woods and sky stretched away beautifully, a taunt to the incarcerated every time Jack opened the door and his bound, sobbing victims caught a tantalizing glimpse of total freedom, so heartbreaking in its proximity. Then the door would shut and the dark nightmare world of the savage rapist/killer would enfold them completely.

Clarisse was pinned on her back, spread-eagled on the floor. Her wrists and ankles were tethered to heavy ringbolts. Jack had done a little something to make sure that Clarisse screamed with every thrust.

To enable her to scream hard, but not bite, Jack had driven a metal skewer in one cheek through her tongue and out the other cheek. This kept her swollen tongue in position projecting out between her teeth. She had to bite off her tongue before she could chew on Jack.

Jack rubbed his ear up against her wet tongue while he humped her. He had sensitive ears and loved hearing a bitch scream straight into them, using her tongue to moisten and plug the hole if she got too loud. In this respect, Clarisse was performing beautifully, shrieking high and hard straight into his tongue-plugged ear hole.

The tongue skewer was agonizing, but what kept Clarisse digging deep to produce those piercing clarion screams were the sharp inch-long spikes that Jack had pushed into her nipples. They gouged in painfully every time he bounced into her chest. The circle of spikes lining the edge of her aureolae and a spike dead center in her teat were digging in deep and pulping the inside of Clarisse's big boobs with each brutal bounce of her rapist against her heaving torso, as he repeatedly crushed her breasts between his chest and hers. This was timed to occur exactly once with each savage thrust of Mr. Happy into her grotesquely swollen fuck hole. Clarisse's screams were thus part of his fuck rhythm, driving Jack rapidly to climax.

Jack withdrew Mr. Happy from Clarisse's hot, bruised fuckhole. Mr. Happy promptly yorked up his white sticky spew all over her bare belly.

While Clarisse gibbered in shock, he set her up for her next exercise in anguish.

He undid each of her wrist tethers, threaded them through ringbolts in the ceiling and pulled her up from the floor. Clarisse dangled by her wrists with his cum dribbling down her flat abdomen in a sticky white stream, oozing its way towards her crotch. Bracing one hand against the side of her head and slipping a finger from the other hand into the loop at the end of the meat skewer, he jerked it out, smiling pleasantly at her small squeal of anguish.

He regarded her sobbing, shaking form with satisfaction. Snot dribbled in two streams from her nostrils. Blood oozed from her nipples. Her swollen breasts shook tremulously with each shuddering, quivering breath. Between her legs, her cuntlips were purple, badly bruised and full distended. Hanging helplessly by her wrists, legs spread wide, fully vulnerable; Clarisse was positioned perfectly for her next brutal lesson in degradation and pain.

Jack prided himself on his ability to make even the most reluctant, disdainful bitch perform in his obscene rituals. However, a bitch can only learn so much in one lesson. Giving Clarisse some time to recover, think about what had been done to her and anticipate what might happen next, he turned to his next obsession.

Like all psychos, Jack had his charming little rituals which he practiced as carefully as a priest performing high mass.

The most violent show on television was a natural draw for a serial killer. It was time. He picked up his remote. The tube flickered on.

There was only one thing interfering with his enjoyment. He scowled in annoyance at his two whimpering victims.

"SHUT UP OR I'LL CUT YOUR TITS OFF!"

There was an instant, terrified silence as his new bitches hastily swallowed their pain.

A man who believed in having trophies of his conquests, he put his feet up on his cuntskin stool and settled back on his whore hide couch, nestling up to his titskin pillows as he prepared to view his favorite tribute to global violence. Jars of eyeballs floating eerily in preservative watched everything in silence.

"Hi! My name is Lola and this is the Channel 69 evening news!"

Jack watched the evening news as religiously as other people read the obituaries, preferring channel 69 as it had the most lurid stories, especially with the new anchorwoman. He loved Lola. He really enjoyed seeing her full, bee-stung lips mouth words like gruesome and monstrous as if she derived sexual pleasure from them, almost panting with breathy outrage. He just knew that she gave great blowjobs.

Jack admired the shameless shudder she gave to her titanic tits as she pronounced something to be hideous or horrible. He savoured the throaty purr of her seductive voice as she spoke lovingly of dismemberment and severed limbs. Her eyes flashed with excitement as she regaled her listeners with tales of brutal violence and savage rape, her voice a hoarse, sexy whisper.

Lurid, trampy Lola with her deep down dirty mind was his kind of woman.

The best moments happened when Lola was obviously deviating a bit from the script. The naughty news anchor had a bright plastic smile and avid glee in her twinkling eyes as she cheerfully explained how a car bomb explosion was rigged to go straight up under the driver's seat, 'a knees and nuts kind of thing'.

He couldn't believe that she'd actually said that. He guffawed and slapped his thighs in delight.

Clarisse and Kirstie fearfully inspected their gruesome surroundings, their guts clenching and their skin crawling at the gross, sickening displays. The windows were blacked out so that, apart from the TV, the only light sources inside the trailer were the many flickering candles. They cast their eerie fluttering light over his ghastly trophies. A pair of severed tits with an amputated thatch of pubic hair between them was mounted on the wall like a hunting trophy. Glass jars were filled with human eyeballs, which bobbed creepily in their preservative liquid.

Altars to his ghastly obsessions lined the shelves on either side, altars made of human bones and body parts. A row of mannequin heads sported long tresses of human hair with the bloody scalps still attached. A demented Christmas tree had been fashioned from green shotgun shells, dried blood and glitter. The trailer stank of blood, piss, shit, vomit, stale semen and death.

Used to dealing with eager-to-please horndogs, her captor was very different from any man Clarisse had ever known – crafty, cruel and dangerous with sly thoughtful eyes that gloated over his victims. She stared in utter revulsion at the madman laughing gleefully on the couch as the newscast finished. Sensing this, Jack suddenly glared at her, his eyes glowing like a nuclear meltdown.

"Don't look at me like that, bitch!"

He jumped up from the couch in a rage. His moves were quick and slick. He did a little something to keep Kirstie occupied and then rounded on Clarisse.

Unfortunately for Clarisse, she was the exactly type of stuck-up slut who had spurned Jack with scathing contempt on many occasions.

Clarisse bowed her head, shaking badly, hating herself for her weakness before a man she regarded as her inferior. She had never known how her skin could creep at a man's glance before. He yanked up on her hair and screamed six inches from her face, spittle hitting her like rain.

"You fucking cunt!! Do you think that you're better than me?"

Her involuntary look of disgust and loathing was all the answer he needed.

He hammered a fist into her eye, knuckling it in deep and twisting it in her eye socket as he landed the blow. Her eye instantly began to swell shut. He jabbed a protruding, bony knuckle hard into her other eye socket and twisted violently. Clarisse tried to shrink back, but he kept pressing hard with his fist until her head was bent back as far as it would go. He ground and twisted his knuckle pitilessly in her eye socket, helping his bitch to achieve the 'raccoon eye' look. It was his one of his favourite fashion statements.

She shrieked and pleaded hoarsely as he worked on pulping her once pretty face. Both eyes swollen shut, she couldn't see the punches coming as he backhanded her with his bony knuckles and jabbed her face with his hard fists, marking her with each blow. Her lips thickened and split. Blood seeped from her crushed nose. Her cauliflower ears ballooned grotesquely as he boxed them repeatedly. Every time he boxed them, there was a scary moment of total deafness.

He pressed his palms hard against her spiked nipples and massaged them vigorously. Clarissa screamed shrilly, her sensitive breasts incandescent with sharp tearing anguish as the sharp spikes tore and scraped through her titmeat.

Snot bubbles popped from her nostrils as she sobbed hard.

Hanging naked by her wrists from the ceiling, her long legs were splayed temptingly wide, still tied to ringbolts set in the floor. He stepped back and began kicking her hard in the cunt with a steel-toed boot. She cried out with each bone cracking kick. Her boobs bobbed with each blow as her entire body was lifted by the crotch on the toe of his boot.

He got up close and personal, interlacing his fingers behind the small of her back and pulling her towards him as he jack-knifed his knee up repeatedly, burying it deep in her belly. Clarisse could feel her internal organs rupturing with each gut-busting impact.

Her throat was raw, sore from all the screaming, but the pain never stopped as he hammered her swollen lips and worked her bruised flesh relentlessly with his fists and feet, elbows and knees, widening and deepening the damage, turning her entire body into one purple sensitive bone-deep bruise.

Ordinarily Kirstie would have watched and listened to all this with horrified interest, perhaps a portent of things to come for her, but right now she couldn't have cared less. She was entirely focused on her own troubles, brought on by Jack with one simple act.

Her chair creaked and squeaked as Kirstie spasmed convulsively, straining violently against her restraints. Bound topless to a heavy wooden chair, a dark yellow pee stain spread across the crotch of her white shorts as she wet herself. Blood seeped from her wrists and ankles as she tugged hard at the heavy wire binding them. The tough, unyielding wire crushed her wrists together behind the back of the chair and clamped her dainty ankles to the front legs. Her big bare breasts bounced on her gleaming, perspiring torso as she bucked and writhed frantically. The chair legs slipped and scraped across the floor as Kirstie's bum danced dementedly in the puddle of pee on the seat, but the chair was much too heavy for her to flip or indeed for her to move it very far at all no matter how hard she struggled.

The plastic bag he had placed over Kirstie's head just before going to work on Clarisse was working its magic. It puffed out as she exhaled and then the thick plastic stretched tightly over her wide-open lips and plastered against her contorted face as she inhaled, desperately trying to pull in air. She tried sucking the plastic between her lips to bite through it, but the plastic was too stiff and thick. It stretched frustratingly over her parted teeth but not between them.

Duct tape sealed the mouth of the bag around her straining, corded throat. Her bulging bloodshot eyes and gaping mouth were pressed tightly against the clear plastic. She begged and pleaded hysterically. Snot ran from her nose and smeared the inside of the bag. Although her body still bucked and heaved as she struggled futilely to inhale fresh air into her burning, oxygen-starved lungs, Kirstie was weakening noticeably.

Her bowels quacked obscenely as she squirted a big load of sickeningly nasty feculence into her shorts. The runny fear shit made her pretty pink panties bulge, soak through, turn brown and overflow, staining in turn the seat of her already pee-stained shorts. Her dancing, squirming buns smeared her brown excrement messily over the seat of her chair.

Just as Kirstie's bloodshot eyes were rolling up in their sockets and she was on the verge of passing out, Jack decided to rest from beating sense into the stuck-up slut. Poor Clarisse was fading on him anyway. There were always limits to how much education a bitch could absorb in one session.

He ripped open the bag encasing Kirstie's congested, purple face.

Kirstie's bare breasts juddered and bounced as she gratefully sucked deep lungfuls of air into her aching bosom. Her dripping, perspiration-soaked torso heaved.

Clarisse's badly swollen face lolled stupidly on her chest as Jack turned to focus on a rapidly reviving Kirstie.

Kirstie was no longer the innocent, slightly shy researcher. Repeated gang rapes and excruciatingly intimate torture sessions had robbed her of all dignity and self-respect, inflicting permanent psychological damage. She now knew that she was a completely vulnerable piece of fuckmeat to the very marrow of her bones. She also had learned a deep fearful respect for the sort of man who liked making a woman scream.

Desperation radiated from Kirstie's sweating face. She glanced at the badly battered Clarisse and mentally wrote her off. Clarisse was dead meat. She just didn't know it yet.

Jack liked the timorous, anxious expression in Kirstie's haunted eyes. He knew the look of a beaten bitch, so he made Kirstie an offer that no decent, self-respecting female would ever accept.

"What do you think about sucking me off while I pound the snot out of little miss shit-don't-melt-in-my-mouth over there?"

Kirstie nodded instantly.

"No problem."

Jack grinned.

"Really? Tell me something that would make me believe you. Are you sure?"

Kirstie nodded emphatically.

"I stink. I'm sitting here in my own piss and shit. My face is covered in my own snot. I was almost smothered to death just now and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

She lowered her head submissively and spoke softly in a resigned, defeated voice.

"In the past, I've been raped repeatedly. I've been fucked over and made to scream myself hoarse. It taught me one thing for sure."

She raised her head, made eye contact with him and held it.

"I KNOW when a guy owns my ass. You own every square inch of my skin. You have complete power over me. You can degrade me any way you please and I am powerless to stop it. You can flush me like a turd down the toilet anytime you feel like it. I know your power. You turned me into a shit-soaked slut pissing in her panties with ease."

She took a deep breath and was briefly pleased to see his eyes flicker down to her bare boobies.

"I know who the most important man in MY world is. It's you. You are my God and, believe me, I am POWERFULLY motivated to get down on my knees between your legs and worship you by licking your dick from its base to its pee slit. I'll suck and tongue your knob to get you as hard as possible. I'll be happy to wrap my lips around your cock and slurp it all the way in, deep-throating you until you squirt your cum down my open throat."

Jack loved this shit. He was grinning from ear to ear as she continued.

"I can give you blow jobs. I can give you hand jobs. I can take it up the ass. I can massage you and make you cum over and over while you make the snotty cunts that are too stupid to realize your power scream high and hard."

She looked him square in the eyes.

"If you want me to, I'll even help you to make them scream."

Jack had heard enough.

"OK. Here's the deal. I take that chain that's bolted to the wall, padlock it around your neck and throw away the key. That way, you're going nowhere unless you chop your head off first. You're my slave for the rest of your life. The chain will be long enough so that you can get to the shower and the toilet. You live to serve and service me while I teach the other cunts respect."

Kirstie's voice was hoarse and earnest.

"You won't regret it."

Jack smirked.

"If you fail me there will be punishment, but as long as you're playing sucky-fuck with me and are willing to help me make the other cunts scream out their respect for me, you and I will get along just fine."

Kirstie nodded solemn agreement.

"I can't ask for a better deal than that, can I?"

Jack was emphatic.

"No, you can't."

He took Kirstie outside. She shucked off her shit-soaked clothing with alacrity and showed him every square inch of her tight body. The icy cold water shriveled her nipples to tight little acorns and made her goose-pimpled skin turn slightly blue, but she did nothing except express her heart-felt gratitude, promise him sexy delights and exhibit herself shamelessly as the excrement and piss was sluiced from her naked, shivering body.

She tossed her ruined shorts and panties off the cliff, watching as they plopped into the river far below. Posing lewdly for him as he hosed her down, she hefted her boobs, tugging at her hard nipples. Bending over and spreading her legs, she reached between them and parted her cuntlips with her fingers, showing him the pink.

To prove that she was more than just a pretty face and a hot body, well worth keeping around, she dropped to her knees, dripping wet in every way. She gobbled his dick like a pro, sucking his balls into her mouth and humming while she breathed on his dick and nosed his stiffening penis playfully. Skillfully licking and sucking his member until it was a rock-hard pile driver, she parted her lips and deep-throated him. He grabbed her head by the ears, pumping in and out fast and hard until he sprayed a monster load of man-gravy down her wide-open gullet.

Satisfied that this wet naked nookie was a sophisticated sexual performer, he took her inside and padlocked the strong chain around her neck, fastening her permanently to his trailer. He went outside.

While she watched through the open doorway, he made the relationship more permanent, throwing the key from the cliff.

Kirstie was now his personal piece of fuckmeat until her head was chopped from her body. He grinned wickedly and cupped her pretty face in his hands.

"Till death do us part, eh?"

She looked deep into his savage gloating eyes and nodded solemnly. He glanced over at Clarisse.

Clarisse was a mess. Her black eyes, so badly swollen that she could only open them to tiny slits, were glazed. Blood dripped from her nose and seeped from her earholes. Her head lolled mindlessly as she drooled like a retard onto her pulped, purple breasts, moaning and whimpering softly like a badly wounded animal.

"I don't think that cunt is going to last much longer."

Kirstie nodded in agreement, watching the sticky threads of snot dribble from Clarisse's nostrils and the long tendrils of drool drip from Clarisse's slack open mouth onto her breasts while she moaned and groaned, quite literally beaten stupid.

"Definitely looks like a slow learner."

They sniggered together. She looked at the man in her life adoringly, eager to cement this new relationship in every way possible.

"I could really help you with this."

She snuggled up close, pressing her naked thigh into his crotch and scrubbing her hard nipples against his chest. She rubbed her cheek affectionately against his, licked his ear and whispered breathily into his moist, sensitized ear hole.

"I could suggest a few people, some snotty hotties that are just begging for a beating."

Jack grinned. This new bitch was all right.

"You used to work in television, right?"

Kirstie nodded, ran her hands down his back and massaged his buttocks. She breathed deeply. As her chest inflated, her naked breasts pressed seductively into him. His cock began hardening again. Whatever Jack's personal problems were, being undersexed was not one of them. The researcher part of Kirstie's mind wondered idly if he was one of those rare guys with two Y-chromosomes. Reputedly, they often turned into violent sex offenders, hot tempered, hyper-aggressive men that just couldn't get enough through normal means.

Snuggling close, she massaged his bare chest with her nipples. He stared down at her tits while she gave him the good news.

"Yeah, I used to work for channel 69. The same station as Lola, that news anchor you like."

Jack raised his eyes. They gleamed eagerly.

"Tell me more."